


Broken Wings, Broken Soul

by PhantomWarrior99



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, agent york is only mentioned, carwash siblings, rvb wings au, there's a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWarrior99/pseuds/PhantomWarrior99
Summary: One’s abilities define one’s usefulness, and when one loses their greatest asset, matters become complicated.An accident renders Agent Washington’s wings unfit for flight, where does that leave him in the midst of Project Freelancer?





	Broken Wings, Broken Soul

Once they glistened and glowed, a gleaming golden display under sunlight. Once they were beautiful. Once--once they were elegant and strong. Now, they're battered, shredded remnants. 

Washington stares into the mirror, mangled wings hanging limply from his shoulder blades. He's tired, he's damaged, he's useless. There are tears slipping down scarred skin, fingers gingerly combing through the remainder of his feathers.

He lost control for what felt like an instant--the doctors say it was hours. The implantation of the AI fragment, Epsilon, had gone horrendously wrong. The traumatized AI attempted a self-destruction while inside Wash's head, sending the Freelancer spiraling toward insanity. He had hurled himself into walls, hands clutching blonde until the medics managed to sedate him. By then, it was too late, the damage was done and nothing would be right again.

York assured him they didn't look that bad, that they would "heal up in no time!" He was wrong. The damage was extensive, torn ligaments and shattered bones. He'll never fly again.

His screams rip through his throat, echoing though his darkened quarters. He's spinning, flipping his steel desk onto its side, casting sanity and composure aside, tears stinging, muscles screaming, soul shredding. His damaged wings flare out as far as physically possible, eliciting a scream of agony from Wash as he crumples to his knees, sobbing.

"Why? Why did this happen?" It's a hoarse whisper as mutilated gold falls around him.

Wash doesn't hear the door slide open, doesn't hear the quiet footsteps padding across carpet towards him until there are arms tugging him into an embrace. He opens his eyes and there's aqua, a sea of turquoise, cobalt, sapphire and navy surrounding him. Bloodshot blue met calming emerald, "Carolina?"

Carolina offered a gentle smile, pushing sweat matted blonde away from his eyes, "Yeah, it's me, Wash."

He falls apart in her arms, sobs wracking his frame as he buries his face in her shoulder. "They're gone, 'Lina, there's nothing left."

She shushes him quietly, fingers tenderly combing through his hair, just like when they were children. Wash had been terrified of the dark, a fear that only grew the night their father told them their mother wasn't coming home. Carolina had held him for hours, calming the riptide of emotions, warding off the grief and agony for her brother's sake.

Nearly two decades later, she found herself in a similar position, holding Wash together, terrified that if she lets go, her brother will shatter before her eyes.

"I know," she murmurs, holding him tight, "it's going to be okay."

"You don't know that," he croaks, tightening his grip on her shirt.

"I do," she assured him, "your wings will heal. You're going to be able to fly again."

"No, I won't!" He tears himself free, her wings pulling back from the embrace as he stumbles to his feet, "you heard the doctors, Carolina! Even after they heal, they'll be nothing but fancy decoration! I won't be able to fly!"

She's on her feet, hands clamped onto his shoulders, "Yes, you will!" She jolts him harshly, forcing his eyes to meet hers, "don't you give up! Mom never would have, so you can't either, David!"

He hasn't seen her this determined, this protective since their days at the Academy. He had a habit of getting into fights, she bailed him out on more than one occasion, hell-bent on beating everyone senseless if they laid a hand on him. It's a miracle they ended up in the same program, a miracle they ever saw one another again.

"I'm not giving up. I'm just looking at the facts, 'Lina, and the facts say that my wings are totaled." Wash shuffled over to the edge of his bed, gently folding his braced wings behind him, "so, just leave me alone."

She's never tentative, never nervous to voice her opinion, but in that moment, staring at the shattered shell before her, she's cautious, "Wash--"

"Don't," a single hand to silence her, "just, don't. There's nothing you can say that will fix this, Carolina, so just go."

She opens her mouth to protest, to remind Wash he's not alone, that he has a family behind him, but she can't find the words. She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, the most reassuring gesture she can think of before she starts towards the door.

She pauses, doors open, back turned, "Keep your head up, Wash, the fight isn't over, not yet."

His eyes never leave the floor and when the doors slide shut, he whispers the words he hoped he would never have to utter.

"It is for me."

Project Freelancer has no use of grounded soldiers, and he's just another liability, destined to fail because of the mistakes someone else has made.

It was never his fault, it was the AI--it was Epsilon.  _He_  self-destructed,  _he_  went insane, and now Wash is paying the price.

He'll never fly, he'll probably never see combat again. In a way, he should be relieved, but his life as he knows it is over.

The others will carry on, climb the list until he's left to lowest ranks. He'll be the bottom of the list, lower than even the Triplets, and he'll be forced out of the program--forced to leave his home and his sister.

_I'm not ready to give up_.

He told Carolina he wouldn't quit, but what if the struggle wasn't worth it anymore? Why not leave the program while he still has some semblance of dignity? Before he's disgraced and cast aside like every other failed agent.

He doesn't want to, the other agents--they're family, but he has no choice.

War is hell and he's about to lose everything he holds dear because of circumstances beyond his control.

Ain't that a bitch?

\---------------

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks!  
> Hope you enjoyed the Wash fic that started out as a drabble, but got long and angsty.  
> As always, leave a kudo/comment to let me know what you think!  
> Also, if you have any fic ideas, feel free to send them via PM or in the comments!  
> ~ Phantom


End file.
